The Sun In Your Hands
by yllektra
Summary: Seeing Elena tormented, after her break-up with Stefan, Damon is in pieces, too.


**Title**: The Sun In Your Hands  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything! :P  
**Characters/Pairings**: Damon-centric (pov), Elena/Damon  
**Spoilers/Warnings**: Based on the tv-show, spoiler for last Elena/Stefan and Elena/Damon scene in 2x06.  
**Summary**: Even if you can't share her love, if you cant taste her lips, you are satisfied to drown in her sorrow and hatred and contempt, anything that she will ever give to you, willingly or not, you will still take it, and accept it, you will still absorb it and wrap your arms and heart around it as if it it were the most precious of gifts.  
**Author's Notes**: Because even a 30-second long scene (which is how long the Damon/Elena scene was) can make a lasting impact, if the acting is so impeccable.

_~ English is not my native language, so excuse any crappiness and/or mistakes_  
Comments will be greatly appreciated! :)

**THE SUN IN YOUR HANDS**

You saw her coming in later.

She seemed upset, sad, but that was to be expected.

Her aunt is in the hospital and she was worried.  
You remember worried.

Back when you were still a human, when you were scared that something was going to happen to your father or your brother, that, maybe, something bad would creep its way to them and it would take them away from you.

Yes, you got into trouble too much for for your father's liking and your brother always shone through like the good son, but none of that mattered because you knew they were your family and nothing would change that.

Nothing you would ever do, would rattle them enough for them to write you off.

So you took comfort in that thought, in that faith.

It was more than hope, it was almost certainty, blood ties run deeper than anything else.

And so you were Damon, the almost prodigal son, almost, but never enough, never complete.

You think that, maybe, Elena wants the same thing, to be accepted, to feel normal and Jenna and Jeremy give her that.

With everything supernatural and scary and dangerous going on around her, she must long for a sense of security, a feeling of normality that her normal, mortal family members provide her with.

But, still, you know it doesn't always work that way, not when Katherine is involved and focused on ruining everything for her

Her venom is not just her poisonous blood, it's not her tempting body.

Her venom is just her.

Her venom is airborne, hateborne and no one is left unaffected.

Her hatred, her evil carries in the air around you, in the trees and the stars that are on the night sky, she is everywhere and she enjoys how suffocating her essence is to everyone, Stefan, Elena, even you.

The one who loved her beyond reason a few centuries ago, because she knows that a century is nothing to a vampire, it is merely the blink of an eye, the opening and closing of your fist.

The fist that would want nothing more than to break her.

And she is just there, observing everything, savoring the taste of despair and loss and destruction that follows in her trail.

Sometimes you wonder why you ever loved her, what you ever saw in her, apart from the obvious appeal of her appearance. Small, slim, vulnerable.

_A little girl with dark hair and dark eyes, which held the warmth of summer and the sun in their depths._

She was almost a contradiction, she was dark as the night, yet she glowed like a sun.

And that was what she felt like when you held her, a sun in your hands that managed to warm you up, to thaw all the ice that had seeped its way to your heart and soul after all the rejection and neglect you had gathered from your father, your brother, life…

Nothing you ever did was enough and you felt like crying, like giving up sometimes, but what kept you holding on, was more than just hope of being accepted in the future.

It was, also, Katherine and her sweet words, the sway of her hips when she came close to hug you, the curve of her lips when she was ready to kiss you, the scent of her breath on your skin, in you,

It was like she knew you inside out and she thought of you as her own personal miracle.

But it wasn't long till you realized that she thought of you as her own little creation.

The tiny, unimportant human who fell prey to her charms and deception.

You didn't care, at first.

You didn't care, as long as she still opened her arms to harbor you inside, as long as her lips still moistened your own.

But, in reality, she didn't care about you.

You were nothing but a cog in her machine, a pawn in her game.

A pawn that was obedient and blind like a little soldier recruited for a war he didn't know had started.

And still you held on, your rifle tight in your hands and you could shoot anyone, _would_ shoot anyone that hurt her or even displeased her.

You were THAT stupid, that weak, that addicted and sometimes you think you still are.

Because even though you dedicate yourself now to ruining her plans, displeasing her, you still deal with her.

Your actions are still tied to her own.

She is not out of your life or your mind and, although, you can start saying how you never really went after her – _although it is not long since your sole purpose was to break her free of the prison you thought held her hostage_ – the truth is that, somehow, against yourself, your better judgment, you are still waiting for her, the version of her you fell in love with and you thought fell in love with you, to walk through that door and tell you that everything else, was a nightmare and she has come back for you, to spend eternity with you, like she ought to.

But, it's only Elena.

It's been Elena all along.

She is who Katherine should have been, she is who Katherine could have been. But never was.

And you realize it now.

Because, no matter how many times Katherine broke your heart, her own always belonged to Stefan, always Stefan, just like Elena's heart and you shouldn't feel like that.

What kind of a masochist are you? Always going after women that can never be yours...

And Katherine?

How can you love a woman who has trampled all over your love, your heart, your whole existence?

What kind of man are you if you love an animal?

A monster who values nothing else than her own amusement?

What kind of clown are you, if you still find yourself doing her bidding unbeknown to yourself, despite your will, without even realizing you are doing it?

You sigh and keep looking at the fire, waiting for Elena to come out of Stefan's room.

You dare not eavesdrop, although, you could.

You could strain to listen to Elena and Stefan talking to each other.

You can almost make out their footsteps getting closer to each other in the next room.

Elena, frail and sad, seeking comfort in Stefan's arms and him opening up his embrace to capture her inside, shelter her from the world, from harm, from you.

Because they know you and what you are is poison, too.

It seems Katherine did a remarkable job altering you, molding you, making you in her image.

Evil and shallow and hollow, no love, no joy, no hope, no salvation, just a shell of the man you used to be.

A helpless romantic.

A gullible fool who drools at the sight of a pretty woman.

You have no doubt that was what she saw you as.

Most people saw you like that. You only cared about fun.

You had no depth, no substance...

Only you **did** and nobody, truly discerned how needy you really were.

Needy of love and acceptance and a warm bosom to engulf you and make you feel safe and content.

Maybe it was better that way, because you could live with hatred and self-loathing, _hell you have lived for over a hundred years with that_, but pity?

That was something you couldn't live with. You didn't want anyone to feel sorry for you.

You made your choices years ago and you had to stick with them and follow through, otherwise it was like actually accepting you were wrong.

And no one likes to be wrong.

Still, you close your eyes and you can almost see Elena and Stefan kissing.

You feel a shiver go down your spine as you imagine their lips touching, their longing and lust almost tangible, like needles on your own lips, like wetness coming out of your eyes and when you open your eyes, you realize that the wetness is real and is your own.

Tears you couldn't stop from falling.

Tears trickling down your cheeks, getting dried by the hotness of the fire in front of you, inside you.

You make no move as to wipe them.

In a few moments they will dry and vanish as if they were never there, as if you never shed them and maybe it is better that way.

No trace of the sorrow that is eating you inside.

No one cares, no one wants to know about that.

It's better that you don't know, either.

You dare not close your eyes again.

You can't stand to see them kissing again, because it feels like Katherine is holding your semblance of a heart in her hands and she is crushing it, squeezing it into an abomination, a vampire heart that, though, charred and black, is still bleeding and she is laughing as she is doing it.

Her mouth almost twisted into a snarl.

Shocking and horrible. Her idea of entertainment for the evening.

Guess you are the clown again.

Despite yourself, despite everything.

You will never be loved. You don't deserve to be loved.

Certainly not by someone as perfect and innocent and pure as Elena.

And you keep looking at the fire, its orange-red flames reflected in your eyes and you wonder if your eyes are a mirror or really a glass and they just show the fire inside...

And then, just like that, you hear her footsteps again.

Elena is coming out and you are surprised, because it has only been a few minutes, surely it wasn't enough time for them to hold each other, kiss each other, get enough of each other…

It certainly wouldn't be enough for you if you were Stefan and you were holding Elena in your arms.

You don't want to look at her as she leaves.

You don't want to see her eyes smiling after seeing your brother, you don't want to see her lips swollen from his kisses.

You don't even want to imagine that. But, you do over and over again when you are in your bed alone and it's a nightmare and a torment that will never allow you to rest.

Yet, you are weak and you shouldn't be so shocked, because you already knew that.

You already knew you can hardly go a day without seeing her, even though she doesn't really see you.

You can hardly go a day without being close to Elena one way or another.

Still, not close enough, never close enough.

But you can still smell her, breathe her in and bathe her in the heat of your own gaze, Elena never knowing who or what it is, that is sending this warmth and love her way.

And, now, just like that, you turn because you can feel her steps grow faster, yet weaker somehow, like she can't get away from this house fast enough and too weak, too exhausted to walk out, at the same time.

Her breathing is coming out of her sweet mouth, strained and heavy and it can't be from kissing, it cannot be from professing her love to Stefan.

It must be something else.

It is almost as if she is in pain and you need to see her, help her if you can.

And there she is walking like a dead person reanimated by despair, she seems like she would crawl if it didn't attract attention or pity.

You can see she has her right hand over her stomach, as if she has made herself sore breathing, despairing, as if she wants to rid herself of what is inside and you want to take a step forward, one step closer to her.

Her black hair flying around her face as she walks, her other hand taking hold of the furniture as she passes them, as if she needs help standing up, going on.

There is something wrong here, you can feel it.

There is something wrong with her, this isn't just the Elena that loves Stefan and only Stefan.

This isn't just the Elena that is ignoring you, this isn't the Elena that can't get away from you fast enough.

This Elena isn't avoiding you.

Rather, she is an Elena that is running away, defeated and alone and lonely.

An Elena you never wanted to see.

This Elena is broken and torn, headed for disaster and you call out her name in an effort to make her pause, to stop her way to the edge of the cliff, to prevent her from going to her own demise.

"Elena" you mouth and you expect her to turn around and then turn right back and ignore you, you expect her to just nod and leave.

But you are not prepared to see this.

You are not prepared to see the tears in her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged around the eyelids you would give anything to trace with your lips, your fingertips...

You take two steps forward, your eyebrows meeting in the center of your forehead and it is not just by surprise or shock, you can smell her pain as if it is yours, you can feel the despair and injustice as if it is burdening you.

Still, you are unable to talk. More seconds than you'd like pass you by without actually speaking.

Too many seconds, too much time without you being helpful, without her knowing that you are there and that you see her, you always see her and you need her to know that you do more than just stand around watching.

You need to help her, but she doesn't want your help, she doesn't need your help.

Other arms are there to embrace her, other lips are there to whisper sweetly to her.

Yet, you are unable to look away, your eyes focused on hers, tracing the liquid sorrow of her soul as it drips out of her eyes.

You ascend the steps that divide the room from the door that leads her out of the house and you almost expect her to flinch and recoil, because you are not worthy and she knows it, everyone knows it.

"I riled Katherine up. I..." you mutter and is this an apology?

Is it … What? What is it? you ask yourself and you are again silent when you see Elena exhale and look away, as if it doesn't matter, as if she was expecting that from you, because, surely, could she expect anything better from you?

Of course, she already knows it was your fault and your words are nothing to her now.

But when you see her do that, your eyes devouring every single detail about her face and body, because she is perfect even broken like this, even crying her eyes out you'd want nothing more than to be with her, feel her, get drenched in her heartache as if it is yours, because _if you can't share her love, if you can't taste her lips, you are satisfied to drown in her sorrow and hatred and contempt, anything that she will ever give to you, knowingly or not, you will still take it, and accept it, you will still absorb it and wrap your arms and heart around it as if it were the most precious of gifts._

You are _that _spineless and hopeless and _that _in love with her, that it wouldn't matter if she ever noticed you again.

And you are still standing there, watching at her profile, the perfect lines of her forehead, her nose and lips, the tears making their way down her face.

And you want to say something more, just something that would make a difference, something that would make her understand it wasn't intentional.

_You are not the Damon she hates anymore_, you are changed, little by little you try to change to be the man she deserves, at least the friend she deserves, but everything you do just blows up in your face, blinding you in its failure, _writing "Defeat" in big, bold letters across your face_.

_"I wasn't thinking. I didn't think"_ you say a little louder and you are not sure if it is intentional to emphasize it or if it is just your exasperation talking, too much to hold back, too high a tide to prevent it from overflowing anymore.

"_It doesn't matter"_ Elena starts, looking at you through bloodshot eyes, eyes that are piercing your skin like a laser, marking their anguish on your skin.

"_Damon_" she adds with a small pause and, maybe, it makes sense, because it must be with effort that she utters your name anymore.

Your name must be miasma, a curse on her lips from now on.

An unspeakable evil she dares not mention for fear of getting infected, ill or jinxed.

_"She won"_ she finally says.

And you both know who she is referring to, she is there, even when she is not, like a cloud that harbors rain and tempest.

A storm, a deluge that if released will shutter you all in its wake, and unconsciously, your eyes flick to the floor looking down, unable to contain the shame you feel inside.

And, then despite yourself, they flick back up to her face, waiting for something, anything, to tell you that this is not the end, that she isn't really giving up, she isn't really defeated and lost.

But she is and you just know it deep inside when she utters _"Katherine Won" _heaving, as if her breath chokes her, hitching to the back of her throat, where all the bitterness from this loss of love and shuttering of heart has accumulated.

And this pain is palpable now, you can feel it in your mouth like bile, like the taste of a dream gone foul, like the sound of a heart breaking, her heart, its pieces stuck inside her chest like it is in yours.

It feels like she has no heart anymore, like her heart has left her piece by piece and you'd love to be the one to pick the pieces up, to glue them back together for her and _give her heart back to her to do with it as she pleases, even if she wants to give it to Stefan again,_ but you can't do that.

You can't be near her, she doesn't want you to, and all you can do is take out your own heart, because it's been hers all along anyway, even if she were oblivious to it.

And you just want to say to her:

_"This is my heart in your hands now. _

_It may be black and charred and unworthy, still burning. _

_And I know it will never be beautiful like the sun. _

_I know i__t will never be life-giving and comforting like the sun._

_But, at least, it is hot as it is burning up._

_At least, it is tepid and I am hoping that you w__ill keep it for as long as it will warm you up, till it burns out, black ashes on your hands, and for as long as you have it, it might make you feel a little better, it might even  
make you smile – although, I am not a dreamer, anymore- and make you feel like you are holding the sun in your hands._

_My sun in your hands"._

But Elena is gone now, closing the door behind her.

And you are left staring at the door, empty, dark and hollow, because Elena has your sun in her hands now, but she will never know.

~ Fin ~


End file.
